


Pearl of Guadeloupe

by TheDarkFlygon



Series: Sappho's Violet (Femslash February 2019) [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, F/F, Femslash, Femslash February 2019, First Meetings, French Characters, Historical Inaccuracy, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Lesbian Character, Pre-Femslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-10-25 05:07:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17718647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDarkFlygon/pseuds/TheDarkFlygon
Summary: [Day 1: Opposites]They were on opposite sides of the Caribbean Sea.





	Pearl of Guadeloupe

**Author's Note:**

> I know I am literally almost ten days late, but college has been sweeping the floor with my ass and the break has finally arrived to make me survive. It's been a rough time lately. But hey, I'm here, indulging in some femslashing for a change. Woop woop.  
> Admittedly, my History classes may have been too inspiring to pass up the occasion. I know pirates and corsairs were far from good-willed people, and that this oneshot is crudely historically inaccurate because it's as self-indulgent as I can get when writing something and sharing said writing publicly; but hey, it was nice to write something different and explore some crack pairings.  
> Let's face it, this month will be filled with these.

Magdalena Kubrisky was no ordinary ship captain on this dire, dire Caribbean Sea. In rough times, she was manlier than her men, facing tempests and filibusters in the name of the King, a letter of trust in her personal belongings and one upmost mission to accomplish: stop the filthy pirates from stealing the resources from the Sugar Isles rightfully belonging to the Kingdom of France.

Indeed, she was the most threatening corsair in the entire sea, feared by pirates and foreign corsairs alike, and she wasn’t about to let her reputation get the best of her.

 

She had sworn under the oath never to be in a relationship, public or private, with any of the men on-board, per decency laws she intended on following to the end. However, not being able to share anything beyond professional relationships or friendships didn’t bother her in the slightest: she was only attracted to the sensitivity and beauty of women, their feminine charms and their girlish strike. She could only dream of finding other women sailing seas in such dangerous conditions, obviously, but a girl could dream and pray to one day find a lawless love the lack of authority around here could give her.

 

When staying in taverns or inns, Magdalena made sure to check out girls and see if any of them noticed the violet embroidered onto her hat, but none had ever winked at her. Her right-hand had even grown a habit of roughly, but playfully, making fun of her for this eternal solitude and lack of success with women of her kind, of her side. She wouldn’t have minded secretly embracing a civilian in the dark of the night, in the back of her husband and the law, maybe bring her on board would she be unhappy with the man.

“Vice-captain Drapé,” she’d pretend calling him out, “I wouldn’t make fun of me if I was ye, ye don’t have much success with other men as well.”

“Touché,” he’d reply brushing the green rose on his coat.

 

But one day, someone had winked back at her. It was on a night of storms, where her crew had been obligated to stay on land because of the waters causing their ship to encounter the rocks dramatically, putting an end to their marine adventures. They were staying in an inn, their letter of trust being enough to convince the owners to let them sleep the night there in exchange of very little money and staying calm. Most of her crewmen were already trying to “court” women around the inn, and she enjoyed herself watching them either fail or succeed with various degrees of courtoisie, until her eyes came across someone who winked at her.

A someone who had a violet embroidered on her vest.

 

Immediately interested, Magdalena rose to her feet and walked up to the much smaller woman who had picked her interest. She seemed to be a feisty little one: short on her feet, light brown hair, greenish hazel eyes, a scar on her left cheek, and a bandana hiding the upper half of her scalp. Her appearance alone was enticing, albeit Magdalena had her suspicions up: her new target of interest was dressed like a pirate, and as opposed to her crew, didn’t wear anything on her that could indicate she was a corsair like she was, and especially not for the same crown as hers. As it stood, they were opposites, and most likely enemies. Ha, tragic.

 

“So, ya the famed captain of the Saphir, ain’t cha?” the stranger asked her, her voice not letting any doubt as to her knowledge of who the other was.

“And I get that ye’re some pirate stealin’ away from my kin’dom’s ships.”

“Most indeed. So what? Ya gonna kill me now, Captain?”

This provocative tone almost made her bit her lip. She had always liked a challenge, and this woman seemed more than happy to provide.

“It’d be too easy. And, most importantly…”

But she could play too. She could let her words trail down the page and make herself waited.

“…didn’t I strike yer eye, milady?”

They were both sober, but a reddish tint appeared on the pirate’s face.

“Guess that happened. Also seems like it’s on both sides.”

 

Magdalena gave her a hand. It’d be too bad to kill someone like this, a rough pearl found in a shady tavern in Point-à-Pitre, Guadeloupe.

“It’d be my pleasure to get knowing ye, milady,” she accompanied the gesture with flirt-filled words.

To her upmost surprise, as her left hand was about to grab her sabre, the other woman took it and put a kiss on it.

“It’d be my pleasure too. What about we take this outside? Don’t want smelly men around me and my love for the night, y’know?”

“Ye most welcome.”

 

And outside they went, staring at the moon up in the night sky, surrounded by thousands and thousands of small white dots. The air was warm, obviously, but still more comfortable than around noon and embracing their skins. Still holding hands, as if not to lose each other and show they weren’t about to backstab the other once she’d have her back turned, they exchanged words again.

“What’s yer name, milady?” She asked with the most genuine curiosity. She, admittedly, didn’t seem them walk away from each other so soon.

“Roxanne.”

A short silence followed.

“What about yours?”

“Magdalena.”

“That’s a pretty name. I like it.”

“I like yers too.”

 

The silence settling between them was comfortable, soothing in a way. A rare moment of calm in the storm, as it had stopped raining outside, giving a false sense of tranquillity to this island whose rain had become an advantage for its cultures.

“Roxanne, what ‘bout we do a secret alliance?”

“What d’ya mean?”

“Ye don’t attack my ship, and I don’t attack yers. And we continue to see each other. I like yer face already.”

“I like the sound of that. Let’s do it, and seal it properly…”

 

The kiss they exchanged on that night was quick, but most delightful. Words weren’t needed to set a promise in stone.

Magdalena Kubrisky was no ordinary ship captain on this dire, dire Caribbean Sea. In rough times, she was manlier than her men, facing tempests and filibusters in the name of the King, a letter of trust in her personal belongings and one upmost mission to accomplish: stop the filthy pirates from stealing the resources from the Sugar Isles rightfully belonging to the Kingdom of France.

Indeed, she was the most threatening corsair in the entire sea, feared by pirates and foreign corsairs alike, and she wasn’t about to let her reputation get the best of her.

 

She had sworn under the oath never to be in a relationship, public or private, with any of the men on-board, per decency laws she intended on following to the end. However, not being able to share anything beyond professional relationships or friendships didn’t bother her in the slightest: she was only attracted to the sensitivity and beauty of women, their feminine charms and their girlish strike. She could only dream of finding other women sailing seas in such dangerous conditions, obviously, but a girl could dream and pray to one day find a lawless love the lack of authority around here could give her.

 

When staying in taverns or inns, Magdalena made sure to check out girls and see if any of them noticed the violet embroidered onto her hat, but none had ever winked at her. Her right-hand had even grown a habit of roughly, but playfully, making fun of her for this eternal solitude and lack of success with women of her kind, of her side. She wouldn’t have minded secretly embracing a civilian in the dark of the night, in the back of her husband and the law, maybe bring her on board would she be unhappy with the man.

“Vice-captain Drapé,” she’d pretend calling him out, “I wouldn’t make fun of me if I was ye, ye don’t have much success with other men as well.”

“Touché,” he’d reply brushing the green rose on his coat.

 

But one day, someone had winked back at her. It was on a night of storms, where her crew had been obligated to stay on land because of the waters causing their ship to encounter the rocks dramatically, putting an end to their marine adventures. They were staying in an inn, their letter of trust being enough to convince the owners to let them sleep the night there in exchange of very little money and staying calm. Most of her crewmen were already trying to “court” women around the inn, and she enjoyed herself watching them either fail or succeed with various degrees of courtoisie, until her eyes came across someone who winked at her.

A someone who had a violet embroidered on her vest.

 

Immediately interested, Magdalena rose to her feet and walked up to the much smaller woman who had picked her interest. She seemed to be a feisty little one: short on her feet, light brown hair, greenish hazel eyes, a scar on her left cheek, and a bandana hiding the upper half of her scalp. Her appearance alone was enticing, albeit Magdalena had her suspicions up: her new target of interest was dressed like a pirate, and as opposed to her crew, didn’t wear anything on her that could indicate she was a corsair like she was, and especially not for the same crown as hers. As it stood, they were opposites, and most likely enemies. Ha, tragic.

 

“So, ya the famed captain of the Saphir, ain’t cha?” the stranger asked her, her voice not letting any doubt as to her knowledge of who the other was.

“And I get that ye’re some pirate stealin’ away from my kin’dom’s ships.”

“Most indeed. So what? Ya gonna kill me now, Captain?”

This provocative tone almost made her bit her lip. She had always liked a challenge, and this woman seemed more than happy to provide.

“It’d be too easy. And, most importantly…”

But she could play too. She could let her words trail down the page and make herself waited.

“…didn’t I strike yer eye, milady?”

They were both sober, but a reddish tint appeared on the pirate’s face.

“Guess that happened. Also seems like it’s on both sides.”

 

Magdalena gave her a hand. It’d be too bad to kill someone like this, a rough pearl found in a shady tavern in Point-à-Pitre, Guadeloupe.

“It’d be my pleasure to get knowing ye, milady,” she accompanied the gesture with flirt-filled words.

To her upmost surprise, as her left hand was about to grab her sabre, the other woman took it and put a kiss on it.

“It’d be my pleasure too. What about we take this outside? Don’t want smelly men around me and my love for the night, y’know?”

“Ye most welcome.”

 

And outside they went, staring at the moon up in the night sky, surrounded by thousands and thousands of small white dots. The air was warm, obviously, but still more comfortable than around noon and embracing their skins. Still holding hands, as if not to lose each other and show they weren’t about to backstab the other once she’d have her back turned, they exchanged words again.

“What’s yer name, milady?” She asked with the most genuine curiosity. She, admittedly, didn’t seem them walk away from each other so soon.

“Roxanne.”

A short silence followed.

“What about yours?”

“Magdalena.”

“That’s a pretty name. I like it.”

“I like yers too.”

 

The silence settling between them was comfortable, soothing in a way. A rare moment of calm in the storm, as it had stopped raining outside, giving a false sense of tranquillity to this island whose rain had become an advantage for its cultures.

“Roxanne, what ‘bout we do a secret alliance?”

“What d’ya mean?”

“Ye don’t attack my ship, and I don’t attack yers. And we continue to see each other. I like yer face already.”

“I like the sound of that. Let’s do it, and seal it properly…”

 

The kiss they exchanged on that night was quick, but most delightful. Words weren’t needed to set a promise in stone.

**Author's Note:**

> lmao I can't pirate-speak


End file.
